... now we do it every night

This woman is very funny, we always enjoy it when she's on the telly.

When I am an old woman...

I came across the photo of the purple door on Facebook, remembered the poem and decided to look for it. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do!

WHEN I AM AN OLD WOMAN I SHALL WEAR PURPLE

With a red hat which doesn't go, and doesn't suit me.

And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves

And satin sandals, and say we've no money for butter.

I shall sit down on the pavement when I'm tired

And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells

And run my stick along the public railings

And make up for the sobriety of my youth.

I shall go out in my slippers in the rain

And pick the flowers in other people's gardens

And learn to spit

You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat

And eat three pounds of sausages at a go

Or only bread and pickle for a week

And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes

But now we must have clothes that keep us dry

And pay our rent and not swear in the street

And set a good example for the children.

We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.

But maybe I ought to practice a little now?

So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised

When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.

                     ******************************

Another book by the same author sounds fascinating:

Book description on Amazon:

Not since Laurie Lee or Flora Thompson has a writer captured the smells and moods of the English countryside in the manner of Jenny Joseph’s Led By The Nose. The nation’s favourite poet has tended her “rural slum” in the Cotswolds for decades and her calendar of a year in her garden grows into an evocation of a personality that is uniquely literary, often leading the reader off her garden path with the sharply sly humour of her famous old woman who wears purple. Jenny Joseph’s memoir of a year in her garden through the sense of smell captures the feel of each month, as well as the flow of the gardening year (the chores to be done, the joy as your garden blossoms). The calendar of a year in her garden displays a personality that is eccentrically loveable, a wilful personality with her own individual outlook on life. The book’s unfolding of Jenny Joseph’s personality is just one of its many delights. Jenny Joseph focuses on the sense of smell, powerfully evoking memories and images that only a writer of her originality and perception could capture in the full range of  thoughts and feelings a garden can stir in us.

I immediately thought of Amy, of course...

[Both books are available from amazon.com]

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We have a message from Down Under:

Regina - If you would post the following msg in an appropriate comments section for your readers to see I would greatly appreciate it. Between our two blogs we ended up with a magic 25 responses and I am absolutely thrilled.

 

Your beautiful selfies have all had your kind messages added and are off to the video editor for compiliation – the finished video will be shown exactly 24 hours from the time of this writing and should be released to youtube not long after.

Leesa has managed to get contributions from local television talent so her 5 minute speech has morphed into an almost 30 minute video filled with hope and love and good wishes.

I cannot thank all of you enough… my heart is full because of you :)

-Oz

The colour of my dreams

This poem was written by Peter Dixon, an old friend from the time I was involved in early years education. He's a senior lecturer in education and also taught in elementary school. His focus is on creativity, which he considers essential in any field of study. Sometimes parents tell him that their children are not going to be artists, so why waste time on all the mucky painting and modelling? He replies that without art, the brain is not functioning to its full potential and the result is often a mediocre doctor, engineer, lawyer, you name it. Not everybody is "good" at art, but it's a shame not to exercise the creative part of the brain! I hope you enjoy his poem.

THE COLOUR OF MY DREAMS